


A Restless Night

by junko



Series: Curse of the Nue [21]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya finds himself alone, thinking of Renji.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Restless Night

Byakuya couldn’t sleep. He’d finished the novel he was reading some time ago, and now lie in the darkened bedroom listening to the sounds of nighttime. Crickets chirped and somewhere, in the distance, an owl hooted. Rolling over, Byakuya looked at the empty space on the right side of the bed.

Renji had left the barracks sometime after dinner. He hadn’t come back. Tomorrow would be difficult for him, transferring Rukia to the Senzaikyū. Byakuya would never have asked it of him, but Renji wanted to be there for her. His strength in this regard was startling. Even so, it couldn’t be easy. So that overgrown baboon was probably off drowning his sorrows somewhere.

Byakuya sighed. He wished Renji was _here_ being stupid with  him. But, Byakuya was afraid he may have finally ruined their relationship for good. Truthfully, he should probably consider moving back to the estate. He only stayed in the captain’s quarters to be… available.

Perhaps that was no longer necessary.

He wished he understood Renji better. If he did, perhaps he could find a way to salvage the mess between them.

Giving up on sleep, Byakuya got up and pulled his robes tighter around him. If he truly wanted to understand Renji, he was going to have to talk to someone who did.

#

“After midnight again, Renji? You’re starting to freak me out--” Rukia said, her back to Byakuya. But, then suddenly sensing his reistsu she sucked in a breath.

Byakuya stood in the shadows near the door, facing the jail cell. He couldn’t bring himself to move in any closer, to take any more than the required steps over the threshold. The moonlight was a cold silver sheet on the floor, and the bars broke it into dark, long forbidding stripes.

Rukia turned around in her chair and gave him wide, trembling eyes, “Oh! Nii-sama! It really is you.”

Byakuya’s own heart trembled at the sight of that delicate heart-shaped face and wide purple eyes, so like Hisana’s. How pleased she would be to hear Rukia call him brother; how angry she would be to know he’d abandoned her.

_But, I swear I’ve done everything I could, my love; everything within the law._

“I’m sorry,” she gulped. “This is all my fault. I’ve brought shame—“

“No,” he said, cutting her off sharply. She could never be anything but his pride and joy. And, even if it was true, he didn’t want to hear her saying so. He took a deep breath and said, “Let’s speak of pleasanter things.”

She nodded, her head bobbing like a little girl. White fingers clutched at her hakama, and she stared at him hopefully, heartbreakingly.

“You were missed at the cherry blossom festival this year,” he said. “Many people remembered you fondly and asked after you.” And next year, he would have to tell each one that she was gone, executed publicly like a common criminal. Or, perhaps worse, it would be like it was after Hisana died--when everyone whispered and stared, saying nothing at all or muttering awkward, painful platitudes.

“Oh?” She tried to smile, “And were you accosted by a mob of suitors, like last year?”

“No, thankfully Renji kept them at bay.”

“Renji?” She sounded surprised. “You brought Renji to the Hanami?”

“Of course. Who else?” Byakuya asked. Had Renji not told her about them?

“But what about this new… apprentice of yours?”

“My what?”

“Your, um, wakashū.”

Byakuya stared at her, dumbfounded. Renji had mentioned that of all things, but not divulged it was himself? Was he ashamed of their relationship? Byakuya supposed he should be pleased Renji wasn’t broadcasting their private lives all over the Soul Society, but he’d thought for sure if Renji was going to talk to anyone, it would be Rukia.

Rukia was looking at him for an answer.

Byakuya shook his head. “You were misinformed. I have not taken a wakashū.”

“Renji seemed to think—“

“I have a lover,” Byakuya said over her. “A very stupid, irritating person, one I’m not quite sure why I continue to entertain.”

Rukia was blinking at him. Perhaps she was surprised to hear him speak so frankly about his private life, but she was his sister, his last remaining true family. If he couldn’t speak to her about such things, who else did he have? She smiled at him in that sad way she had, but her eyes twinkled, full of teasing. “You sound smitten, nii-sama.”

He was startled by this observation. “Do I?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, her eyes still sparkling with mirth. “This person really knows how to get under your skin.”

Well, that much was certainly true. Byakuya had never considered the fact that Renji exasperated him as a sign of affection, however.

“Will you tell me about your lover?” she asked hopefully.

If he did, she would know him instantly. But, Byakuya could hardly deny the wishes of the condemned. Besides, he come her with the hope of understanding Renji. Perhaps if he told Rukia a few details, he could work some things out for himself.

There were the physical things, of course, but, even though she _was_ his sister, Byakuya could never tell Rukia how fascinated he was by the wildness of Renji’s body—the crazy crimson hair, the tangle of tattoos, and his powerful build--even, when he allowed himself, the way Renji moved with Zabimaru in hand. Instead, Byakuya took a steadying breath, and added, “In truth, I’ve never known anyone like him.”

At his words, Rukia visibly relaxed, and unwound her fingers from the cloth of her hakama. She put an arm over the back of the chair, and lay her head against it, as if listening to a bedtime story.

So, Byakuya continued. “Yet I’ve never been more frustrated by a person in my life. He’s so different from me that sometimes I wonder if we have anything in common at all. He pushes at me to give, and, even when I have nothing, he refuses to give up on us despite—despite myself. I never thought someone could fill the hole left by…” he stopped himself before mentioning Hisana by name. Byakuya was sure Rukia was too young to have had any memories of her sister, but he couldn’t take the risk. He continued after a soft sigh,“… and he doesn’t, not at all. But, it’s like he constantly attempts to build a bridge over it, work around it.”

She was so quiet that Byakuya wondered if Rukia had actually fallen asleep. But, after a moment, she said, “Renji’s wrong about you. He seems to think you’re just using this man. Obviously, you’re in love.”

_Love?_

Byakuya had been resisting that thought all along, but even he had to admit that, out loud, it did sound like that, after all, “Perhaps so.”

“Thank you for telling me about him, nii-sama,” she said, still not lifting her head. “It’ll be a great comfort to me when—“ she stopped, unable to finish that thought, but continued, “I’m glad you won’t be alone.”

But, he would be. Renji would be grieving too. Losing Rukia could, in fact, serve to only widen the gulf stretching between them.

“Don’t be a fool,” he said sharply. He turned to go. Over his shoulder, he told her, “There will be no comfort for those left behind.”

As he left, he thought he heard Rukia whisper one last apology.

#

Byakuya found his way into the estate’s gardens. He sat on a low arched wooden bridge, his feet between the railings, dangling over the water, like he had as a child. Fish jumped at mosquito swarms, making soft splashes among the lily pads.

He’d always hoped that becoming a soldier would put an end to all this... loneliness. Academy, however, had been all about fast-tracking the Kuchiki heir--when it wasn’t enduring sycophantic instructors fawning over being in the presence of a member of a True Fist family. Meanwhile, just beyond his reach were all those things collegiate life was supposed to entail—parties, romances, roommate squabbles, and gods only knew what all else, since it was all happening somewhere far away from his private suites. Even when he did mix in regular classes, no one dared approach.

Not that he would have accepted any offers of friendship, anyway.

He couldn’t have; he didn’t have the strength.

His father had died only months earlier, followed closely by his mother. Yourichi had disappeared from the Soul Society only a matter of weeks before he entered school. There was no time to process any of it in the rush to perform the genpuktu, his coming of age ceremony, where he accepted the mantle of responsibility as clan head. His grandfather--so unlike his warm, loving father—had had no words for him beyond stern expectations.

Byakuya had been, quite frankly, shell-shocked.

He was so angry, so hurt, so without any outlet for any of it—all he could do was focus that immense emotional turmoil into his reistsu. The only comfort of that time was the reunion with Senbonzakura at graduation, the only soul he trusted enough to share everything, to carry all his burdens. All his pain became his greatest strength, and his close, almost exclusive relationship with his zanpaktō one of the reasons he so quickly achieved bankai and passed the captains’ exams.

His grandfather had the audacity to be proud of that achievement. But, for Byakuya, it was a symbol of how little he truly had.

He dipped his bare toes in the cool water, kicking up droplets of water. To own so much and have so little, it was the greatest irony of his life.

“Oooh, there you are!” came a voice from the bushes. “Why aren’t you at Flowers’ birthday party with everyone else?”

“Who’s there? Show yourself.”

Yurichiru, the little pink-haired lieutenant from the Eleventh, came out from under a hydrangea bush along the river bank. She seemed to be wearing some kind of kitty-ear hairpiece and had painted whiskers on her round, plump cheeks. She waved at Byakuya and skipped along the path and half-way up the bridge, until she plopped down beside him.

“This is a private estate,” he admonished her lightly.

“I know! I had to scale the wall,” she said, as if very put out by the fact. She rested her chin on the lowest railing and looked out over the water, “You make it very hard for people to come in and enjoy all the pretty gardens.”

“That’s sort of the point of private,” Byakuya said dryly, “To keep people out.”

She seemed to consider this very seriously, with a scratch on the top of her head that made the cat-ears wiggle. She stared at him with her big, bright eyes. “But if you’re always keeping people out, how can you have any friends?”

Byakuya sighed. Mimicking her pose on the railing above, he said, “Indeed. I was just considering that, myself.”

“You want to come to a party?”

“I’m afraid hardly dressed for a social call,” Byakuya said, indicating his sleeping kimono.

“Oh, but your kimono is lovely. It even has flowers on it,” Yachiru insisted brightly, reaching out and stroking the lavender silk patterned with white apple blossoms. She grabbed his hand, and stood up, “Plus, Kenny won’t mind. Come on!”

#

He must have been out of his mind to let Yachiru drag him to the Eleventh division barracks dressed only in his sleepwear. At least the party seemed to be winding down. Even so, plenty of people did a double-take, apparently having difficulty recognizing him out of uniform and without the kenseikan.

Yachiru had kept up a constant babble of conversation the entire way, most of it inane, if pleasant. “Do you even know how old Shunsui is? He must be, like, a zillion or something, yet he celebrates every birthday with gusto. I want to be like him when I’m ancient.”

“Perhaps for his birthday, you could consider showing him a little respect by referring to him as Kyōraku-Taicho, or at the very least Shunsui-san.”

Yachiru blinked up at him. “You’re funny, Byakuya-chama.”

‘Chama,’ Byakuya had learned was Yachiru’s own personal version of an honorific, as it combined the childish familiarity of ‘chan’ with the deference of ‘sama.’

They had reached the Eleventh’s practice yard. Any number of soldiers lay sprawled, passed out, or huddled into piles gambling, drinking and otherwise carrying on. Mindful of his bare feet, Byakuya carefully stepped over the young gentleman lying in a pool of his own vomit near the stairs. He stopped Yuchiru long enough to make sure the soldier could still breathe and was in no danger of drowning.

"Why did you do that? Kenny wouldn’t have bothered,” Yachiru said, when Byakuya stood back up.

“It should be a captain’s duty to consider the health his or her soldiers. Besides, it would be a pitiful way to lose an officer from any division,” he noted.

She took his hand again and led him onward. The mess hall seemed to contain the majority of the party-goers who were still sober enough to be mostly upright. The Kenpachi was holding a sort of court, regaling the gathered throng with his bombastic singing voice, which reminded Byakuya of the mournful cries of a wounded animal.

“Oh! Cake!” Yachiru shouted, apparently spotting some and urging Byakuya inward.

They’d only taken a few steps inward when Kyōraku stumbled up to them. He smiled sloppily from under his hat, “Oh, Yachiru, you brought me a present! Who is this handsome, young straggler…?” Kyōraku’s eyes finally focused on Byakuya’s face, and he looked shocked at what he saw. “Goodness! Mr. Byakuya! You have no shoes! Your feet are muddy and you seem to have left all your expensive… baggage behind.”

There was nothing Byakuya could say to that. It was no doubt startling to see him so underdressed and out of context. So, instead, he deflected those comments, by saying, “Happy birthday, Shunsui-san. I must apologize for a lack of present. I was unaware of your party until a few moments ago.”

“Oh thank goodness for the stiff formality,” Kyōraku breathed, taking off his hat to fan his face. “Or I would have thought I’d fallen into a wormhole into an alternate reality in which Byakuya Kuchiki has no shoes.”

“I’m getting cake,” Yachiru announced, letting go of Byakuya’s hand to help herself.

Byakuya wanted to tell her not to overindulge with the sweets, but he curbed his paternal instincts with difficulty. She was the lieutenant here, after all. She could do as she liked. Meanwhile, Kyōraku continued to peer at him curiously. For some reason, he seemed fascinated with Byakuya’s dirty feet.

“No present, eh? I’m terribly, terribly affronted, of course,” Kyōraku said, putting his hat back on with a flourish. “I suppose it would be too much to ask to get a birthday kiss from you? Honestly, I was surprised when your lieutenant obliged.”

Renji had kissed Kyōraku? Exactly how drunk was he? And, what a sight that must have been! Still, Byakuya schooled his expression and said flatly, “My lieutenant is very obliging.”

“And you?” Kyōraku asked lasciviously.

“Much less so.”

“Ah well,” Kyōraku sighed. “A boy can dream.”

“Indeed,” Byakuya noticed Ukitake was nowhere to be seen. He wondered what the Thirteenth’s captain would think of Kyōraku’s little dalliances. Still, his request for kisses seemed fairly harmless as such things went. And, if Kyōraku wasn’t sexually harassing members of the Gotei 13, the universe really _would_ be out of whack.

Suddenly, Byakuya felt the menacing approach of Kenpachi’s reistsu, he used a small bit of shunpō to turn just in time to avoid a slap on the back by Zaraki’s gigantic hand. “Holy shit, it is you! What are you doing slumming down here Kuchiki? You’re, like, half-naked, and where the fuck are your shoes?”

“I didn’t realize shoes were a requirement for attendance,” Byakuya noted with a pointed look at Zaraki’s bare feet, “Though I do apologize for being underdressed.”

“I brought him, Kenny,” Yachiru piped up, suddenly appearing in her usual spot on Zaraki’s back. “He was looking lonely and sad. I thought a party might cheer him up.”

“Lonely and sad, eh?” Zaraki repeated, with a penetrating look Byakuya found he did not appreciate in the least. “Well, seems to me like that’s his own damn fault. Abarai had the same hangdog look twenty minutes ago, before he found himself a friend.”

“Kenpachi!” Kyōraku scolded. “That was hardly necessary.”

Renji was off with someone else? Already? Who? Who had replaced him so quickly?

Meanwhile, Yachuri pounded her tiny fist on the top of Zaraki’s head. She left a spatter of pink frosting on his forehead, “That wasn’t nice, Kenny. Now you’re going to make Byakuya-chama all sad again.”

“It’s no matter,” Byakuya managed to say. “My lieutenant’s business is his own.”

“Bullshit,” Zaraki said with an infuriating smirk.

Yachiru whapped Zaraki’s head again, this time leaving almost a perfect, tiny handprint outlined in frosting, “Kenny, you told me that was a secret.”

“No, I told you my opinion that Kuchiki was too much of an ice-queen for that to ever work was a secret.”

“Oh, right,” she said, licking the remaining frosting from her thumb.

Dear god, did Renji tell these buffoons at the Eleventh everything he couldn’t confess to Rukia? Had his lieutenant absolutely no sense of risk-assessment? Of all the people in the Soul Society, these were the very last ones Byakuya wanted to know anything about his sex life.

“Come on, Mr. Byakuya,” Kyōraku said kindly. “Let me get you a bowl of sake. It’s from my private store.”

Trust Shunsui, even drunk, to offer a way out.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Byakuya said, taking the opportunity to follow Kyōraku away from where Zaraki and Yachiru continued to discuss the things they were and were not supposed to talk about in public.

Handing him a bowl, Kyōraku said, “Don’t take much stock in what the Kenpachi says. He lives to stir up trouble. Particularly for you.”

Byakuya nodded, though it didn’t change the fact that Renji had strayed. Byakuya wondered, if he searched the backrooms of this barracks, would he find Renji like he had before—all tangled among the sweaty, spent bodies of two other men? Or had a woman caught his fancy this time? Or perhaps two or three?

“You shouldn’t blame Mr. Renji, either,” Kyōraku said. “After all, he was drunk enough to kiss me.” Byakuya opened his mouth to say that was no excuse when Kyōraku added, “And you know he’s hurting.”

“What? What has he said to you?”

“Nothing, but it was obvious from the way he kissed me.”

“Oh? And how was that?”

Kyōraku gave him a look, like he should know what he was about to say. When Byakuya didn’t seem to get it, he said with a long, drawn out sigh, “Like he hadn’t been satisfied in a long time.”

So much fury welled up at the implication he wasn’t keeping Renji happy that his reistsu shook the plates on the table before he could get it back under control.

Two seconds later, Byakuya felt it. Somewhere nearby Renji climaxed.

“Please excuse me,” Byakuya said, turning to leave, “ I must go. Tomorrow is shaping up to be a very difficult day.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting (and replying to comments). I'm away at WorldCON and the hotel internet isn't terribly cooperative.


End file.
